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"Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe" ~ Neil Gaiman (A Game of You)

9.30.2011

Angela Felsted entrances me with her incredible poetry on her blog, My Poetry and Prose Place. Now, she is getting ready to launch her poetry chapter book called "Cleave." Here is the trailer for her book.

9.28.2011

The fabulous K.M. Weiland has just released her latest book, Outlining Your Novel. As an avid fan of Ms. Weiland, I'm excited that she's willing to share the secrets of her success with us. I can't wait to jump in and read this book. To celebrate, she is holding an amazing contest with fabulous prizes. Visit her blog, Wordplay, here to find out more.

9.23.2011

Another gray day. The sky darkened with low-hanging clouds, but no rain, no lightning to break the monotony of the gray. There was a heaviness in the air that settled into Tammy's bones. She sat in the big armchair, Springer squawking from the T.V., a wine glass in one hand and a near-empty bottle in the other.

She'd lost count of how many days she'd sat like this. Her cat, Mixen, jumped up into her lap and rubbed his head against Tammy's arm. She must've remembered to feed the cat; otherwise he'd be whining and spitting at her. Well, at least that was one thing she could do right. Tammy pushed the mewling ball of fur onto the floor.

I should do something, she thought. Something. Grab a bite to eat. Take a shower. Maybe a little yoga. She could use a few endorphins. She peered into the smoky bottle, watched the red liquid swirl around and up the sides. Maybe there were a few more endorphins in there. She replenished her glass. At least she was using a glass. That was the difference between being drunk and being a drunk.

She threw her head back and chugged the remaining wine. Then she put down the glass and the bottle and stood up. She stepped over the piles of dirty dishes and clothes that littered the floor. She grabbed her purse and set of keys and went outside, not bothering to lock the door behind her.

She knew she shouldn't be driving, so she took the side streets and drove at a crawl. Kids would be at school. Safe. Safe from her. The rest? Well, more people died from car accidents than anything else. They knew they were taking their chances when they ventured out that day.

She arrived at her destination without incident and parked a little too far away from the curb. She slipped off her sandals, leaving them on the floor of the car. She popped the trunk. She dropped her keys in her purse, then threw it into the trunk before bringing the lid down with a snap.

The wind whipped at her hair, raising goosebumps on her arms, and she tasted salt when she licked her suddenly dry lips. The sand felt soft and tickled her bare feet. She walked toward the angry, pounding waves, the roar in her ears growing.

She walked into the water and felt the icy waves lap around her ankles, splashing up against her calves, making her jeans cling heavily to her legs. She braced herself and pushed out further, turned her back against the breakers so they sprayed her back and drenched her hair.

When she was waist deep, she dove under a huge, threatening wave, and felt the undulations as the water frothed above her. It was a soft, rocking motion, and maybe it was just then, at that very moment, that she truly decided to go through with it. She wanted to be rocked in the ocean.

She began swimming away from the shore with strong strokes. She was a good swimmer. She'd be able to get pretty far. But she wasn't a great swimmer. She counted on that.

9.02.2011

“Once upon a time, there was a perfect world. In this world, every baby born was wanted, celebrated as a blessing not a burden. Mothers held their newborns in their arms, close to their heart, while fathers stood nearby looking so, so proud. They dreamed great things for their children and promised everything to make their dreams come true.

“The perfect world was beautiful, but not because it was perfect. Muddy brown birds with speckles, bright colored birds, singers and squawkers, all of them were beautiful. And every flower was welcome in the garden. Can you believe people used to call some flowers weeds?

“And people were beautiful, too, not because they were all the same, but because other people looked for and knew how to find what made them so.

“Everyone in the perfect world had a soul mate. Sometimes it was a brother, or a best friend. And sometimes, people fell in love with their soul mate, and they lived together for the rest of their lives.

This is from a previously written scene. I just cut out everything in between the dialogue. It's a rough draft and unedited, so it still follows the rules. :) To play along, visit Write Anything's [Fiction] Friday.